


Mr. Jones

by rubeanddodo



Category: Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubeanddodo/pseuds/rubeanddodo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of where it all may have begun and why it went the way it did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Maybe this is why things went the way they did._

 

 

Mr. Jones

 

Rhett still felt cold and slightly sick - two weeks ago, he had killed a man and the horror engulfed him still. The duel was to have been 'honourable' and it was to follow the rules of the Code Duello which had been set out in the last century. That men felt the need to codify how to kill each other said so much of the society in which Rhett lived. 

The setting had been Charleston's old duelling grounds which were located conveniently between the race track and an old grove of magnolias and living oaks, massive in size and quiet as a tomb. 

The heavy mist was beginning to burn off with the rising sun though wisps still floated near the trees. The horses whinnied and shuddered, from the ghosts of dead men come before or with a sense of what was to happen, who could say, maybe it was the nerves of the men gathered around that caused them to stamp and snort. 

Six men gathered together in the middle of the clearing - two duellist, two seconds, a doctor, ( who was the drunkest of the lot) and the judge - Tommy Davis, a man that was friend to both combatants and so deemed to be impartial. 

 

“In accordance to the rules, the accuser, Mr. Andrew Carvell does call this duel against Mr. Rhett Butler for the following reasons:

**Rule 10.** Any insult to a lady under a gentleman's care or protection to be considered as, by one degree, a greater offence than if given to the gentleman personally, and to be regulated accordingly.  
  
 **Rule 11.** Offences originating or accruing from the support of ladies' reputations, to be considered as less unjustifiable than any others of the same class, and as admitting of slighter apologies by the aggressor: this to be determined by the circumstances of the case, but always favorable to the lady.

 

Mr. Butler has deemed pistols as the weapons of choice. Mr. Carvell has chosen for this to be a duel to the death. 

Combatants shall commence with walking ten paces apart, turning and firing at will. Gentleman, you may begin.”

 

“It's not too late, Rhett.” Vincent, Rhett's closest friend and now Second, whispered to Rhett as he primed Rhett's heavy duelling pistol. “You could stop this now.”

“How, Vincent? The only way out would be to marry that fool of a girl - I'd rather die a quick death here than a slow one of listening to her for the next thirty years. My God Vincent, she isn't even pretty!”

Glancing over at the hot headed Andrew, Rhett noticed he was weaving on his feet as the young man, brother of girl Rhett had supposedly dishonoured, took another pull from his flask. 

“Don't worry, Vincent, this will be settled with 'honour' and then we can be on our way.” Rhett grinned, putting on a brave face to calm his friend. “And I will buy the first round of whiskey.”

“Seconds, please compare pistols.” Tommy called out. Vincent and Carvell's second, a weaselly looking youth, his skin scarred and inflamed with acne and his greasy hair pasted to his head, met and exchanged the heavy duelling pistols. After a moment, they bowed to one another, traded the guns back and returned to the duellists. 

“Gentleman, please take your places.” Tommy said.

“Good luck, Rhett.” Vincent said as he took Rhett's jacket, leaving Rhett's arms free in his loose white linen shirt. 

Moving towards the center ground, Rhett gave a thought to poor Tommy. “ It can't be easy for him to be put in the middle of this, I should make sure to stand him a drink or two when this is over.”

As they stood back to back, Rhett smelt the stench of Carvell's fear and could hear his foul mutterings, a gentle hoot from a mourning dove drew his eye to the old oak, spreading her bows above the level ground where he stood.

 

“Ten paces, gentleman. Starting now.”

 

Ten paces, yet the first report came at the count of six. Vincent called, “Rhett watch out!” 

Carvell's aim was thankfully bad but Rhett's return shot was sadly exact. His bullet hit precisely, the white shirt of Carvell first blackened and then coloured red as his blood gushed from his chest. Carvell stared down as if surprised by the bullet and then back at Rhett, his eyes still hot with anger, “You bastard, I hope you rot in Hell.” he garbled as he fell to the ground. 

Rhett moved towards Carvell, to do what he didn't know, but Vincent stopped him before he could get close. 

“No Rhett, leave him, let his second help, the doctor is here.” Vincent pulled at Rhett's arm. “ Come, we should leave here - it will be alright but we must go now.”

He saw Carvell's second run towards the body, the doctor weaving his way forward, spilling open his leather bag, metal instruments falling in the dust. 

Rhett heard birds crying out with fear at the loud shots, he could smell the burnt powder. Once again he moved towards Carvell but Vincent held his arm. “Come on Rhett, we must go.” he implored.

He led Rhett towards the horses and impelled him up on to Sadeek and then pushed them into a hard gallop away from the grounds. 

Rhett felt lost, he had killed a man. A cold shudder ran through his body. Never had he killed a man before. It wasn't a rabbit or a snake that threatened him, this wasn't target practice. 

Vincent saw how white his friend's face was, “Rhett, he wanted you dead. You did what you had to do.”

Rhett had expected Carvell to be a bad shot. He had expected him to miss and he had planned to shoot his own pistol in the air - honour satisfied - but he had killed him.

“The fool, the arrogant fool. Nothing happened with his sister - she kept insisting she wanted to go for a buggy ride by the Ashley and she seemed so pleased when the horse threw it's shoe and we had to walk home. She bored me senseless the whole way, giggling and gossiping about the other girls. God, I took her on that buggy ride just please Mother - she kept telling me how it would be so nice if I showed a bit of attention to the girl as none of the other bucks would give her the time of day. And with good reason, she's a fool, the family are all fools!”

“Don't think about it, Rhett, it will be fine, maybe it is just a scratch.” But both men knew it wasn't just a scratch, the bullet had been fatal.

“Come on, we'll go to the cabin for a few days and when we come home it will all be blown over, you'll see. Here, have a drink.” Vincent passed his silver flask to Rhett, who shook his head. Vincent gulped down the brandy and pushed his horse on behind Rhett.

 

The two young friends hid out at the old fishing cabin in the woods behind the slave cemetery. Sadeek was not happy, sensing the cotton mouths near by and he refused to enter the small lean-to, preferring to stay outside in the open. Rhett hobbled the horse, stroking the stallion's neck, trying to soothe his nerves and to calm his own. Rhett was in a shocked state – he kept seeing Carvell's shirt reddening with blood and hearing the man's last words.

Towering, distorted trees hung with Spanish moss deeply shaded the small cabin, a single room with two camp cots in the corner and a rickety table and chairs on the sagging porch. Kerosene lanterns gave the only light within the dark room. A toothless mute from the kitchen of the neighbouring plantation came by once a day with a basket of food and bottles of whiskey. 

Vincent tried his best to help his friend. He tried distracting Rhett with rude stories of the fine girls at the Big Brick House or tall tales of his fishing trips here at the cabin. When that didn't work, he told Rhett that he had nothing to worry about, “Why it's the way of the South, Rhett. A man defends himself, just as you did. It's not your fault that Carvell was a poor shot or a cheat. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if the boys don't hold a party in your honour when we get back home.”

Rhett spat, “My honour – Vincent, I killed a man. He may have been a cheat and a fool, but I killed him. Do you think his mother would welcome me to her home? Shall I try courting his sister now?” Bitterness filled Rhett. The waste of it all, all in the name of honour.

After the first week, Vincent was exhausted. “Rhett, I should get home. Stay as long as you want. I'll make sure Nancy keeps coming by with supplies for you. Shall I tell your mother you'll be home soon?” But Rhett didn't answer, he was too deep in his own dark thoughts.

By the second week, Rhett had had enough.. He knew he would have to face the music at some point and he was tired of the damp cabin and of his own company. No amount of whiskey could blot out the memory of Carvell falling into the dust and the fact that Rhett was a killer. The innocence of his youth was gone forever for Rhett as was his easy going manner. 

Sadeek was happy to leave and in no time they were at the outskirts of Charleston, where the cobblestones paved the road.

The first indication things were different came with Mr. Wells, an old friend of his father's. As Rhett cantered past, Mr. Wells turned his back, ignoring Rhett's friendly salute. 

Rhett continued on and was ignored, dismissed and shunned by all the fine, stiff-necked, proper people of Charleston. People Rhett had known since childhood looked past him or simply turned away as though he were a ghost or worse a stranger.

Hitching Sadeek before the imposing Butler home, Rhett slowly walked up the marble stairs, past the four towering pillars and on to the wide porch. He wanted a hot bath, a kiss from his mother and the quiet of his own room. 

Laying beside the heavy door with its ornate fan light, was a saddle bag. Rhett opened the door and saw Tunk, the main houseman, big, black and kind, standing in the dim, cool hallway.

“Well Tunk? No 'Welcome home Mr. Rhett'? What's wrong?”

Tunk shifted on his big feet and glanced over at the closed door to the left of the hall. He sadly shook his head. 

“Young suh, you'se not welcome here. Yer bag is outside.”

“Come again, Tunk?”

“Young suh, you'se not welcome here.” Tunk repeated. “Yer bag ...”

“I heard you the first time. What are you talking about?”  
Clearing his throat, Tunk again glanced at the door and said “Young suh....”

“Thank you Tunk, I understand.” Rhett nodded his head to the closed door and Tunk hesitated before he nodded.

Rhett silently crossed the gleaming cypress planked hall and opened the door to his father's study. Mr. Butler sat behind his enormous desk that had been specially made to show his importance. He was running his hands over Tiny Betsy, the upstairs maid and licking his lips. 

“Hello Father.”

Startled by the intrusion, the hard faced, dark haired man pushed back his chair and Mr. Butler erupted “How dare you enter without knocking! What are you doing here?” 

The young girl stepped back drawing the man's attention - “Betsy get back to your work! I'm sure you are needed elsewhere.” 

The two men paused as the young negress fled the room, a look of relief on her face. Rhett closed the door behind her and sat in the leather chair across the desk from his glowering father. Taking a cigar from the humidor, Rhett said “You don't mind Father.” rolling the fine cigar between his fingers before clipping the end with his Father's golden cutter.

“Yes, I do mind!”

“Pity.” Rhett struck a match and lit the cigar.

“Why are you here, Rhett?” growled Mr. Butler. “I thought you were long gone.”

“Hoped I was gone, don't you mean Father?” Rhett sneered.

“You're not welcome here. You have besmirched the family, fouled the Butler name. You should have married that girl and done the right thing, instead you killed her brother. If you had any sense of honour you would know that.”  
“Lucky I have no sense then sir, otherwise I'd be dead on the duelling grounds with a bullet hole in my back.” 

“I'd be happier if you were then at least we could hold up our heads. But you have never thought about us, about your family name, you only have ever thought of yourself.. It's your Mother's fault, all her spoiling ruined you. Have you thought what your behaviour has done to her? She is beside herself with shame, as you should be. Why couldn't you be more like Robert?”

“I would rather be dead in my grave than be like Robert. Precious Robert – the son that is so much like his esteemed father.” Rhett slowly drew on his cigar and then lightly said “Did you know how much you share with your chosen son, including Tiny Betsy?”

Mr. Butler's sharp cheekbones reddened with rage. “Get out, get out of my house! You are a disgrace and you are no longer my son. Leave here and don't come back, you will never be welcome in my home again!”

Rhett puffed his cigar placidly but he felt the sharp sting of his father's anger. “And where do you suggest I go, dear Father?”

“I don't give a damn. You can go to the devil for all I care. Tunk, Tunk!”

“No need to force Tunk into this, Father. I will leave.” Stubbing out the cigar, Rhett stood up.

“You're cut off, you know. You have nothing and you never will.” 

“I have my money from your not so sainted father, the pirate, the one you are too ashamed to ever mention in polite society.”

“That money is for the first son and as you are no longer a son, it is now Robert's.” Mr. Butler's thin lips twisted into a smug smile

“Touche, Father. You obviously have thought this out. How long have you hated me, your first born son?”

“Since the minute you took your first breath. You have always been a disappointment to me. Now get out! I will be happy to see the back of you!”

“I'm glad I can finally make you happy then sir.” With a bow, Rhett turned and walked out the door. His mother stood before him, her pale cheeks wet with tears.

“Mother, I'm sorry.”

“Oh Rhett, how could you....”

Mr. Butler was at the doorway, “Eleanor, you are overwrought – go to your room.” The small lady hesitated. “Eleanor, now!”

Glowering at Rhett, he said “ You get out and don't bother coming back. You have caused enough disruption!”

Rhett watched his mother make her sad way up the stairs.

“I would like to say good-bye to Rosemary before I leave.”  
“No, she is better off without you. The last thing she needs is to see a murderer and a fornicator!”

Holding himself in check, Rhett looked directly in his father's grayish eyes and pointedly replied “Ah Father, no truer words were ever spoken.”

He turned and with great composure walked out the front door of what had once been his home. Picking up the saddle bag, Rhett stepped down the stairs, along the walk and out the iron gate, forcing himself not to look back.

Tunk stood by Sadeek, stroking the velvety cheek of the horse. 

“Young suh, I'ms sorry.”

“It's fine Tunk. Take care of yourself. Take care of Mother and Rosemary for me.” Rhett felt a pain deep within himself but forced it away. 

“We's all know youse a good young suh, anyting we's can do, ya know old Tunk's here fer ya.”

“Thank you Tunk.”

Rhett stretched his leg up into the stirrup and swung himself into the saddle. He squeezed his thighs against the horse and said, “Come on boy, time to move on.” 

Sedaak balked, he was not happy, he had expected to be in his stall by now.

“Poor Sedaak, you hoped you were home, didn't you? So did I.” Rhett dug in his heels against the horse's side and guiding the reins he said “ Let's find us a new home.”

None, however, was available. Rhett stopped at each of his friend's houses – Johnny, Thomas, Clinton. Kind niggras all gave their apologies but 'young suh is not at home, suh. He be visitin' family, gone huntin', gone fishin'....Sorry suh, I's be sure to tell him you's called.'

Even Vincent was gone - sent to the family plantation in Louisiana to help with the rice crop. Rhett laughed out loud at that, Vincent had never done a lick of work in his life. Even the negro looked embarrassed at telling such a lie.

“Well Sadeek, I guess this is the end of the road for us.” Rhett had counted out the few bills and change in his wallet, twelve dollars, three quarters and nine shin plasters.

The saddler was a sharp Irishman, ready to make a quick buck. “Two hundred dollars, horse and saddle.”

“Five hundred dollars horse and two fifty for the saddle.” Rhett countered.

“Ha! And you be Mr. Butler's son, the one that is banned from Charleston? I'll give ye three hundred for the pair.”

Sadeek, a horse worth two thousand dollars and the saddle that was hand-tooled in England and had cost four hundred dollars. Rhett took five hundred. 

Walking down the avenue, Rhett stopped into a store and came away fifty dollars poorer. Making his way to a part of town that his mother never saw but which Rhett and his friends were frequent visitors of, Rhett cut down an alleyway and then pulling a brass key from his pocket, he entered by a side door of a large brick building. Stealing up the back stairway, Rhett opened a door numbered 312. He sunk down on to the cheap bed, the springs squealed and he laughed, it was the music of lovemaking for him.

A young petite woman walked in, her hair a garish unnatural red. 

“Rhett, oh Rhett, you're back!” she leapt on the bed, straddling Rhett in her cheap finery, covering his face with kisses and murmuring blue words of all she wanted to do with him.

“I knew you'd be happy to see me, Josie.”

“Oh I've missed you, Rhett! Did you miss me? I swear I should slap you for staying away so long!”

“If I give you a present will you forgive me?”  
“A present - give it to me!”

Rhett pulled out the long, jewellers box and handed it to her. The box gave a satisfying crack as Josie opened it.

“Oh, Rhett, it's beautiful – put it on me!”

“When you are naked.”

Without a moment's hesitation, Josie stripped off her chemise, proudly showing her full breasts, her rounded belly, the dark pubic hair clipped into a heart shape and her white thighs.

“Now Rhett.”

Rhett gazed at her. “Hmm, you are a delight for sore eyes, honey.” he gruffly drawled. “ Turn around.”

Josie obediently turned, arching her back and pushing her round bottom out.

“Put it on me Rhett.”

Rhett slowly grazed the heavy gold necklace over Josie's breasts and with a kiss on her neck, clasped it on.

“Oh Rhett.” Josie hopped off the bed and ran to the mirror to admire the necklace. “It's beautiful!”

“And so are you, now come here.”

Josie slid back onto Rhett and began to stroke him.

“I have an idea, Josie...what say we leave Charleston.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let's just go, we'll go west, see the Pacific Ocean, start to live!”  
Josie sat up. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no.” Josie went back to mirror and preened before it, stroking the gold necklace. “I heard how your daddy kicked you out and I am not interested in being a poor man's wife.”

“I don't recall asking you to marry me.”

“You asked me to come with you and you gave me jewellery.” In Josie's mind that was a proposal.

“Why would I want a cheap whore as my wife.” Rhett said viciously, his pride hurt.

He saw her jerk back as though he had slapped her and was glad to see tears in her eyes.

“Why would a cheap whore want you as her husband? No money, no family, no hope, no thanks.”

Josie shot back.

Rhett stood up, he wanted to strangle her with the necklace but suddenly threw back his head and laughed. “True Josie, even a cheap whore wouldn't want me now.”

Josie looked at Rhett trying to gauge his mood. “Don't be mad, Rhett. We can still be friends.”

“No thanks Josie, I'm not looking for friendship.”

Josie shrugged her shoulders and turned back to the mirror to powder her face and decolletage with the sickly sweet Eau de Mirage she favoured.

“Are you going to thank me for the necklace?” Rhett lay down again on the bed.

“Thank-you, Rhett” Josie said as she applied more rouge to her checks.

“You know what I mean, Josie, come here.”

“I'm expecting a friend, sugar.” With a practised hand she applied her red lip stain. “ You better go – if Grace finds you here it won't be good.”

“You're kicking me out?”

“I'm asking you nicely to leave.” With a final glance at her reflection, Josie turned to Rhett. “Thank you for the necklace Rhett, I'll think of you every time I look at it.”

“Until some other whore steals it or you need to pawn it.”

Josie shrugged “It has been lovely knowing you, Rhett. If your luck changes, you can always come back to visit me. Oh, maybe you should give me back the key.”

 

Stepping back on to the crowded street, Rhett thought bitterly, “No horse, no family, no whore. No thanks.” 

He sat on a bench at the Battery looking out at the water and trying to ignore the whispers and finger pointing of all the fine people that walked by him. Two weeks ago he was one of Charleston's favourite sons, a good name, money, friends and a life of privilege and now he was something foul to gossip about. Rhett wasn't frightened by his future but it was going to take time to adjust. Josie was right and so was his father. He was no longer welcome in Charleston, it was time to leave.

He took stock of his situation, he had no money except the four hundred and sixty-two dollars in his wallet. He had his pistols, the clothes on his back and whatever had been packed in the saddle bag. Rhett quickly riffled through it, two clean shirts, two pairs of drawers, four pairs of socks, one pair of pants, a straight razor, a letter addressed to him in his mother's hand and a note wrapped around a miniature of Rosemary – this he opened first. 

_Dear Rhett, Papa is sooo mad at you! What did you do, no one will tell me! But I know he will stop being mad soon. If I cry every night he will let you come back home. I know it. I love you Rhett. Your sister, Rosemary._

 

Rhett smiled sadly, she was the one thing he would miss most about Charleston. With a deep sigh, he opened the letter from his mother. He could see where her tears had dropped on the page, smearing the ink. Folded within the pages were two five dollar paper bills. 

The letter began -   
_“My son, my first born child, oh Rhett....”_

Rhett folded the letter and returned it to the saddlebag. He couldn't face his mother's disappointment, not yet.

He now had the princely sum of four hundred and seventy-two dollars and change. It wouldn't last him long. He was trained as a gentleman and what little that entailed. He knew how to ride a horse, drink like a gentleman, shoot straight – and look where that had gotten him. He knew how to gamble, that he was so accomplished at, it had gotten him dismissed from West Point - Captain Haynes hated losing, especially to Third Years.

The idea of seeing the Pacific was not a new one for Rhett. He'd heard there was gold there and money for the taking. He could be free, free of all the hypocrisy of Charleston and it's honour and reputations, free to do as he please. All he needed to do was catch a boat and find a sucker with deep pockets. Picking up the saddle bag and with a spring to his step, Rhett made his way to the docks.

 

******************************

 

“Excuse me gentleman, I think I need a breath of fresh air.” Rhett bowed to the four men assembled around the table. They were hard looking men with false smiles and mean eyes. 

“Hurry back Rhett, I want some more of your money.” The men all laughed and went back to their cards.

Rhett stepped outside onto the deck, glad to get away from the loud voices and the heavy cigar smoke. He stood beside the rail, looking down at the water glowing with phosphorescence in the moonlight.

Things weren't going as he had hoped. He was now down to his last twenty-five dollars and he was doubtful he would be able to recoup his losses. The men, so jovial and 'Hail Fellow, Well Met' when he first was asked if he was interested in a friendly game of cards amongst gentleman, were now showing their true colours. They had played him well, the first night they had given him enough rope to hang himself. He had been up six hundred dollars in two hours and felt so cocksure with his betting that he started risking more with each hand. 

Rhett was sure the game was crooked but he couldn't make out how they were cheating him. He kept his head clear no matter how many times his glass was refilled and he tried to watch the cards as they were dealt but somehow four out every five hands he lost. 

He had a vision of himself soon, holding a tin cup and a sign saying 'Will work for cigars and whiskey'.

He had been stupid to think he could make a living as a gambler. Maybe he should have accepted his lot and married Livia but the thought of a life with her revolted him – to marry such a fool would only make him a greater fool. He was meant for better than that, better than the lives of his father or his brother, he had his Grandfather Butler's blood in his veins and he wouldn't go down without a fight but right now he was fighting against the unknown and it was liking punching the wind. Standing in the clear moonlight, Rhett wished someone could help him but he knew no one to even ask.

“Moon is beautiful tonight isn't it?”

Rhett glanced over, slightly startled, a figure cloaked in black and with a soft hat pulled down low shadowing his face, stood beside him at the rail. With a grunt of acknowledgement, Rhett looked back at the ocean wanting his solitude.

“'The best laid plans of mice and men'' the stranger quoted.

“I'm sorry sir. Have we been introduced - I don't recollect your name.”

“You can call me Mr. Jones.”

“How do you do?”

“Well thank you – better than you, I believe.”  
“That wouldn't be too hard.” Rhett said sardonically.

“No, I don't believe it would.” Mr Jones said pleasantly. “Things haven't turned out quite as you expected, have they?”

Rhett tried to make out his companion. All he could see was a sharply angled face with a black goatee. “Mr. Jones, I don't mean to be rude but I would prefer to be alone right now.”

“Why? So you can think about how cruel the world is and maybe how it would be easier to give up?”  
“I am not planning on giving up, sir! I am weighing up my options.”

“Ah, and what might those be - your options?” Mr. Jones politely waited for Rhett's reply. “Yes, they are rather scarce aren't they?”

Rhett looked back at the water. 

“What do you want most in this world, Mr. Butler?”  
“Money.” Rhett said without thinking. “Money and lots of it.”

“And would money bring you happiness?”

“I believe it would, sir. Lack of money certainly doesn't.”

“And what of love, Mr. Butler?”

“One can't have love without money I have learned.” Rhett said, thinking of Josie

“So young and yet so cynical.” Mr. Jones noted. “And so if you were to ask for one thing it would be money, or the ability to make money, am I correct?”

“If I saw a falling star right now, that would be my wish, yes sir.”  
“Oh one doesn't always need a falling star to make a wish.”

“In that case, I wish I had the ability to make money, lots of money.” Rhett joined in with the joking manner of Mr. Jones.

“So be it, Mr. Butler.” Mr. Jones laughed. “Have you ever heard the old saying 'Lucky at cards, unlucky at love'?”

“An old wives tale said by someone who was unlucky with his cards and resigned to the love or facsimile of love by his wife, no doubt.” 

Mr. Jones laughed along with Rhett. “Well sir, best of luck with your cards. It has been a pleasure to meet you. No doubt we will meet again.”

“Good night, Mr. Jones. I think I may try my luck now. Care to join me at the card table?”

“No sir, I like to make my bets on a more sure thing than the turn of a card. Good night.”

 

Rhett's luck did turn when he sat back at the table. His eyes now saw how cards were being switched and he was able to stay ahead of the other men's tricks.

He was amused to see the four men look suspiciously at one another, trying to see who was the cause of their sudden change of fortune. 

Rhett was careful, he made sure to bet wildly yet still keep ahead. He folded winning hands to keep the men unsure of his talent with the cards and he accepted the constant refill to his whiskey glass. He quit the table when he was back at his original stake and promised to let them try to win back their money the following night. But the following nights proved very successful for Rhett and he finished up threefold from his starting stake.

Rhett looked for Mr. Jones to let him know of his sudden change in fortune but the gentleman must have kept to his cabin and Rhett didn't see him again.

 

And so began Rhett's career as a gambler. Up and down the rivers he travelled, never on the same boat and never with the same men. Lady Luck was kind to him, the best female companion he could wish for, but he never entirely relied on her. Rhett learned to always sit with his back to the wall and facing the door, he began to carry a gun on his hip, he had his suit jackets specially tailored with an inner pocket for a smaller gun and he had a razor sharp knife in his boot. He was a gracious winner and a good loser. The ease oflying that he had learned at his father's knee helped him and he was smooth with convincing a mark that just one more hand may turn his luck. 

He never spent time with maidens unless an attractive stepmother was about. He learned to leave fifteen minutes before a husband was expected home, no matter how he was implored to stay just a few minutes more by the tempting of the lady of the house. The prettier the wife the more punctual her husband was he found.

Rhett began to bank half his winnings , never again would he be broke and desperate. He had money and acquaintances but friendships were now just a part of his past life. He became a lone wolf, looking out for himself and no one else. He became hard and cynical. He enjoyed cutting down the pomposity of people but did it with such a quick wit and smooth turn of his tongue that his target was usually left stuttering. 

Once he had enough of a bankroll and when he had become too well known on the river boats, Rhett made his way west, travelling through Texas and up the California coast. The Pacific Ocean was how he imagined it to be, wild and untamed, like the men that came there. He took up with other young men as rootless as he and they hired on as claim jumpers and mercenaries. Some of these men were such as he, black sheep from good families and the others had no families, none of them would have been welcomed to his father's home, nor would Rhett have bothered with any of them in his previous life. The rules and morals of Charleston were not how men lived here in the West. There were no morals and very few rules. Killing was a part of life there and a man quickly learned to never trust anyone if he wanted to live to see the following day.

By now, Rhett had killed five more men-two on the Mississippi and three more out West. Killing had become easier for him and he didn't mourn any of their deaths nor did he dwell on them. The young man of Charleston's duelling grounds was long gone and not likely to ever return. Rhett's reputation of a cool, quick shot grew and few men dared call him out for a duel, preferring to take the higher and safer ground of silence. 

He travelled to Nicaragua as a freebooter. He had come because of the conceit of one man, the grab for power with no thought of lives destroyed or lands laid to waste but that man payed very well and Rhett left after Walker became president. Rhett had no interest in setting up a new government, he had come for the adventure and more importantly the money. He killed more men but this was a 'war', with all the blood, the horror and the waste of any conflict and he didn't let it touch him. An old quote he had learned at school became his motto “Quaeque ipse miscrima vidi, Et quorum pars magna fui.” which roughly translated to say “which most wretched things I myself saw and was myself a great part of them.”

His slim, youthful body had grown. His shoulders were broad and powerful and his eyes held a spark of wickedness. He was tall and handsome with a slim moustache that accented his lips.

Only with the whores and their madams did Rhett ever show kindness. He was always quick with a compliment and a kind word to the girls who worked so hard for so little. He knew they were the only ones that may have a bit of heart for a man who treated them as more than a mule. He never had a special girl but hired them each in turn – black, white, big as a heifer or delicate as a swan, and he always went out of his way to flatter the madam, knowing she was the one that held the power in any house. The only ones he stayed away from were the young ones, he had no taste for children. 

And it was these working girls and their madam that saved his life after the wild Texan split Rhett open with a bowie knife after losing his months pay on a game of faro up in Nevada. The girls tenderly nursed Rhett and took turns staying with him and but for them he would have bled to death or died from infection - Cora Queen had let him stay in the best room of the house, which happened to be hers, until he was healed. When Rhett was once again whole, he decided that it was time to leave the West – he had enough of the adventure and wanted to get home to Charleston. He still wanted a kiss from his mother and the quiet of his old bedroom.

Rhett had written both to his mother and to Rosemary – never forgetting a birthday or Christmas present. He had told them some of his adventures, the ones that were suitable for ladies to hear. He had given them addresses in the many towns he had visited, but he never received anything back from them. He often wondered if his father had intercepted his letters.

 

_This is the beginning of what started off as a one shot, it kind of got away from me. Ah well, I hope it has grabbed your interest. Many many thanks to Spottedhorse and DreamGWTW for reading through it and giving me their thoughts and encouragement.   I have squecked it a bit since the original posting._


	2. Chapter 2

  _Thank you all for your kudos,  it is always such a treat to get a message that someone likes my scribblings._

**PART II**

 

Riding into Charleston, Rhett cut quite a figure. His enormous black stallion was as sleek and well-groomed as he. The fine cut of his suit and the deep gleam of his high riding boots bespoke taste and money. Many did not recognize him at first and a number of ladies batted their eyelashes and lightly swung their hips as their escorts strove to stand taller as Rhett rode by, tipping his hat to the people he had once known.

Nonchalantly tossing Chief's reins to the young boy in front of his father's house, Rhett walked up the stairs. He had a moments nerves, returning to the young boy frightened of his father's wrath, before he strode into the house. Tunk still stood guard in the hall, he had aged and the lines on his face were cut deeper now but he was still a powerful presence.

“Tunk – it's good to see you again.” Rhett said, passing his black hat to the man.

“Yung suh, Mr. Rhett -” Tunk grinned from ear to ear with the joy of seeing his young master again. “It's good to see you home, suh.We's shu did miss ya.”

“Thank you Tunk. It's good to be home. Is Mother in her sitting room?” Rhett had planned his return carefully - he calculated his father would be at his office down by the docks and his mother would be home from her daily visit to church.

“Yas suh, Can's I get ya anyting suh?” 

“No Tunk. I may want a bath but not right now, I want to visit with Mother first.”

“Yassuh, I'lls get ya room ready.”

“That will be fine, thank you.” Rhett said as he moved towards the door of his mother's sitting room, his heart beating with the excitement of seeing her again.

Rhett walked into the delicate, feminine room and bowed gracefully to the two ladies sitting on their low chairs, needlework in their hands.

“Mother, you are a sight for sore eyes. Dearest Mother, here I am home again.”

With a cry Eleanor stood and held her arms out to Rhett, “Oh Rhett, my darling!” Her eyes started to become wet with tears as Rhett held her tightly, smelling her scent of roses, the scent that always was and always would be his mother.

“Let me look at you!” Rhett said, standing back “Just as lovely as in my memories!” His mother was smaller than he remembered, her blue eyes had faded and her pale hair was now streaked with gray.

“Oh hush Rhett – you always were too quick with a compliment.”

“Only to ladies as special as you, Mother.”

“I thought you were gone forever. I have prayed every night for your return. Where did you go? Where have you been? It has been so long.”

“Too long, but like a bad penny I have turned up again. But didn't you get any of my letters?”

“No, what letters? Oh never mind, you are here again and that's all that matters.” the lady said as she held tightly to his arm. Rhett shifted his eyes over to the younger lady, still seated in her chair, her eyes down on her needlework.

“And this young lady can't be my little sister Rosemary! I always knew you would grow into a beautiful woman, Rosemary, I just never imagined you would be quite so stunning. I am sure your dance card is always full – Father must be fed up with all the young bucks coming around courting!” Rhett laughed, holding his arms open to her.

“Hello Rhett.” Rosemary said with ice, her black eyes glinted with contempt. “If you will excuse me Mother, I think I will go read my book.” And without a backward glance she left the room.

Rhett stood still, feeling like a fool - he had been cut by his own little sister. He had always been her favourite and he remembered all the silly games they had played together and how she had looked up to him. He still had the note she had written to him and had often imagined squiring her around Charleston when he returned home. Rhett looked questioningly at his mother, who simply tried to wave it away. 

“Is there something I should know, Mother?”

“No, no- well, oh Rhett never mind about that right now.” She moved away from him to the mantle, and started to rearrange the flowers in the tall cut glass vase. “Tell me dear, are you in Charleston for long, where are you staying?”

“I thought I would be 'staying' here, Mother. I told you, I am home.”

“Ah, um yes – and how lovely is it to see you again.” Eleanor faltered as she glanced at him, she nervously licked her lips. “Maybe it would be better if you stayed at one of your friend's homes, Rhett.”

“Am I not welcome in my own home?” Rhett said, surprised at this less than warm welcome.

Picking at the bouquet, avoiding Rhett's eye, she said “For now, it might be better if you found some other place to stay. It's just – well Rhett you know your father and then there is Rosemary...”

“What of Father and what has happened to Rosemary? Please tell me Mother.”

The door slammed open – there stood Rhett's father, his face as purple with rage as the last time Rhett had seen him. Rhett looked into his father's black eyes and saw a hate and an anger that gave no doubt as to his feelings of his son's return home.

With a mocking bow, Rhett said “Hello Father, your prodigal son has returned.”

“I told you ten years ago – get out and don't return.” The elder man said with loathing.

“Pardon me sir?” Rhett smirked at the greying man. “Am I to take it you will not be calling for the fatted calf?”

“You always have the smart remark, don't you? You haven't changed at all. You best leave before I take a whip to you.” 

“If you were to try, I would break you arm.” Rhett stood ready to fight, the fight that had been brewing since Rhett was a young man.

“Rhett, no please!” his mother pleaded as she clasped his arm. “Please Rhett, you should go. I'm sorry, but it would be best if you left.”

“You come back here, expecting to return to the family fold when all you have ever done is ruin the family name. Oh yes, Rhett – your infamy has reached even here to Charleston – you are a gambler, a horse thief, a hired gun. Yet you've come running back to your Mother haven't you? Do you expect her to make things all better? Do you think by hiding behind her skirts that all will be forgiven? Get out and don't bother coming back. Remember what I told you before, you are no longer my son and you will never be welcome in my home.”

Rhett looked at the incensed man before him, he that had sired him and hated him from birth. Rhett wondered why he thought things would have changed, wishful thinking he supposed. There was no point in trying to make peace with someone so close minded and one who hated him, never would he meet his father's expectations. 

“ I have not forgotten I am no longer your son. It is the one bright light in my life.” Rhett said with a sneer. “Don't worry Father, I won't darken your door again, not until you are taken out of it feet first. You have made it abundantly clear I am not welcome.”

Rhett looked at his mother, slumped down on her chair trying to stifle her crying. “ Mother, I am sorry if I caused you distress, that was never my intent. Please always remember, if I can ever do anything to make it up to you, I will.”

With a solemn bow Rhett quietly said, “ Good day to you both.” and he walked out of the room and out of his Father's grand house, never to return again. 

The fine cigars he had bought for his father he gave to Tunk and the book of dull sermons for Robert he dumped in the trash. The exquisite Oriental silk shawls he had bought for his mother and Rosemary, he tucked away with hopes that one day they would accept them.

*******************

Rhett had learned his lesson from the last time he had returned to Charleston and didn't bother going to his old friend's homes, he was sure that there would be no welcome for him now, just as there hadn't been ten years ago. Instead, he made his way to the best hotel of Charleston and secured one of the better rooms overlooking the courtyard. He had no idea where he should go or what he should do now. His plan had been to return home but now he had no home. He hadn't expected his father to welcome him with open arms but he had hoped that enough time had passed that things would have been forgiven if not forgotten. He had no plan for the future, where to go or what to do. 

Rhett stood against the long marble bar of the Mills House Gentleman's Lounge with one foot propped on the brass rail, sipping on a small glass of whiskey. He gazed around at the cool room, men were gathered in groups, primarily near the bar but a few sat at the small marble topped tables lightly scattered around the room. The bar was dim, the wooden slats over the tall windows were slanted to keep out the afternoon sun and the prying eyes of the pedestrians walking by. The other men periodically would stare at him and then go back to their discussions. 

A pink-faced plump man hurried in and glanced about. Spying Rhett, he grinned and moved over to the end of the bar. “Rhett, damn, it has been much too long!”

Rhett looked at his old friend Vincent, now with thinning hair and a broad waistline and took his soft, outstretched hand.

“Hello Vincent. It has been awhile, hasn't it.” Rhett casually said.

“Ten years at least. Let me buy you a drink.”

“I think I still owe you one. Whiskey or brandy?”

“Whiskey with ice.” Rhett nodded to the sweating bartender with the long nose.

“I heard you were back in town – I stopped by your house but... Well, anyway I thought maybe you would be here. Welcome home!”

“To home – wherever it may be.” Rhett toasted.

“Yes, to home.” Vincent gulped down his whiskey. “So are you back for good? I sometimes heard of your adventures – care to tell me about them?”

“No, not really.” Rhett plainly said.

Vincent looked at his old friend. He had changed in his years away, Rhett seemed cautious now and closed within himself.

“I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to say good-bye to you before you left Charleston, Father sent me off to Louisiana to Riencourt the minute I got back from the cabin.”

“How is your father?” Rhett politely asked.

“He passed away two years ago. It was sudden, the doctor said it was his heart.”

“My condolences to you.”

“Yes, well of course his passing put me in charge of the house here, Riencourt and of course Blue House. I never knew how much work was involved with land. Hell, do you know how hard it is to get a good overseer? Half of them steal you blind and the other half are worthless at getting a stitch of work out of the darkies. Now Mother is beginning to ail. She is living at Blue House with Carrie. Why I guess you don't know – I married Carrie Bulton.”

“Congratulations to you both. Children?”

“Two daughters, but I need a son. Carrie isn't willing right now. Not that she was ever that willing. Women, eh?” Vincent gulped down his drink. “Lucky Carrie is in Beaufort County. I've got a sweet piece over on Tell Street.” Vincent began to describe to Rhett all the tricks his mistress Jennie used to pay her keep. Rhett listened politely and continued to nod over to the bartender every time Vincent's glass was dry.

“So tell me Vincent – I have had no news from Charleston since I left. Tell me of Rosemary.”

“She is a beauty your sister. Why she could be the belle of Charleston if it wasn't for you.”

Possibly if Vincent hadn't been so excited to see his old friend or if he hadn't had quite so many glasses of whiskey, he would have been more circumspect but Vincent's tongue wagged on to Rhett. The Carvell's daughter was an old maid now, none would have her after her buggy ride with Rhett and old man Carvell had made sure that, as the saying goes, an eye for an eye, none would have Rosemary. The old stories of Rhett's grandfather were told again, talk of the bad blood that ran in the Butler breed. No family would allow their son to court the young Miss Butler, no matter how beautiful she was nor how rich her dowry. Her only hope was a Yankee would come to town and not hear of the old story, otherwise she would die an old maid. 

“Not like your Daddy would let a Butler marry a Yankee though, eh Rhett? Why, if it weren't for Carrie, I would marry her myself.”

“Well, thank God for Carrie then.” Rhett gibed.

Vincent blearily looked at Rhett, not sure if he got the joke. 

The men, gathered in their small groups, suddenly became animated as a fat, sweating man ran into the bar shouting out “Gentleman there is news from Virginia – the bastard Brown is dead!”

Loud cheers rang out and the men rushed the bar or gathered around the fat man to hear what other news he had. Rhett heard the man describe how John Brown was killed by firing squad and the men cheered again, tossing their top hats in the air and slapping each other on the back.

“Wish I could have been there, why I would have loved a chance to shoot the bastard's head clean off!” “Serves the traitor right” 

“That will show them Yankees to stay out of our business”

“Death to the Jayhawkers!”

“Let's see what that baboon Lincoln will do now!”  


Men toasted each other and South Carolina, as proud and full themselves as though they each had personally stopped the insurrection at Harper's Ferry. Rhett shook his head and quietly laughed at the pompous fools. 

“Say, how about we go to the Big Brick, for old times sake?” Vincent said. “I hear tell there is a few new girls there, just up from New Orleans. You know how those creoles have a way with men, maybe I could learn a few new tricks for Jennie to try. She is always willing for anything, thank God. Why can't our wives be like our whores, eh Rhett? Life would be so much nicer.”

“As I don't have a wife, I wouldn't know.”

“No, you are the carefree bachelor. But I have no doubt you still like the ladies and like better still those pretending to be ladies. Shall we go?” 

Rhett agreed, though his interest was not in the delights of the young women but rather the talk in the lounge. An idea was beginning to formulate, an idea of that would make him richer than Croesus.

*********************

For the next two weeks, Rhett haunted the gathering places of the gentleman of Charleston. He stood quietly, not drawing attention to himself but listening to the braggings and blood-thirsty talk around him. No doubt his Mammy would be ashamed of his eavesdropping but how much information could be gained by listening to those around him. The men talked and pontificated about the Yankees, Southern Rights and the ape now in Washington. He read the newspaper's editorials and took note of the quotes – 'Cursed Yankees, No more compromises, They will come like a gang of robbers to steal our property and murder our people.' He spoke to the madams, heard the talk in their houses by their clientele and his plan became more concrete. Rhett could feel a pricking in his spine – things were coming to a head and soon he would be able to make a great deal of money, more money than he had ever imagined.

Each morning, Rhett hid himself across the street from St. Michael's church and would watch as his mother and Rosemary walked up the stairs into the church. He would wait patiently until they left again after two hours. On Sunday, his Father joined them, glad handing the other men making their apologizes to their Lord for their sins, absolving themselves for one day so that they may continue their sins for the next six. 

Finally, his mother came one day without Rosemary. Rhett waited and then followed her in. He felt the quiet engulf him, the peace of the church surrounded him. Silently walking down the diamond patterned floor, Rhett opened the gate to the Butler pew and sat beside his mother who was kneeling on the deep red cushion she had embroidered herself. Sensing him, Mrs. Butler looked up from her folded hands, her eyes widened and she fearfully looked around. 

“Is it me that frightens you, Mother or is it that you may be seen with me?” Rhett said quietly.

“What are you doing here, Rhett? I thought you had left Charleston by now.” she whispered.

“I wanted to see you before I left. I'm not sure how long it will be 'til I return again.”

Mrs. Butler nodded and touched her lace hankie to her eyes.

“Mother, I am sorry for all the hurt I've caused you and Rosemary. I've written her a letter, could you see she gets it?”  
“She won't read it, Rhett. It pains me to tell you but she hates you now.”

“Thanks to my father no doubt.”

“Don't be so hard on your father, Rhett. He is a God fearing man and he loves his family.”

“I doubt he fears God so much as he fears the gossip of Charleston.” Rhett sneered.

“You are not entirely without fault, Rhett. You brought much of this on yourself. I blame myself. Mr. Butler told me it was because I spoiled you so much when you were little. Oh Rhett, you were always my littlest soldier and now that you are grown man, I don't know you anymore. I come here every day to pray for your soul.”

“Every prayer helps, I'm sure. Thank you Mother.”

“The hardest thing was never knowing if you were alive, if you were happy, where you were.”

“Mother, I did write you – many times. I imagine Father made sure you never got my letters or my presents.” His mother bent down her head, hiding her eyes from Rhett. “Is there anyway we can correspond? Could I send letters to one of your friends? What about Miss Eulalie?”

Mrs. Butler looked up. “No Rhett, you musn't! Why if anyone should know that ....” she stopped.

“If anyone should know you still keep in touch with your black sheep son, you would be looked upon as a social leper.” Rhett finished her sentence.

Tears fell down his mother's woebegone face. “Rhett this is Charleston, what would you have me do?”

Rhett looked at his mother, he wanted to tell her that he wanted her to stand up for him against his Father, against her friends, against everything she had ever been taught to believe, but he knew she never would, she didn't have the strength no matter how much she may love him.

“What about Reverend Elliot, could he be our go-between? You have done so much for the church, Mother, I am sure he would help you if you asked.”

She looked up at him and a light came to her eyes. “Yes, he would. I think he would. But if your Father should find out... ”

“He won't Mother, I'll make sure of it.” Rhett took her small hand in his. 

“Where are you going to now, Rhett, what will you do?'

“I am going to make my fortune Mother and when I do I shall drape you in furs and cascade you in diamonds.” Rhett said with a grin.

Her laughter echoed through the church. “Oh Rhett, you are still my little soldier boy! I remember you saying that when you were a wee thing and you would go off one of your mysterious adventures. You would come home with acorns for diamonds and Spanish moss for furs.”

“And you would wear them for me until Father came home.” Rhett smiled.

“I pray for you every day, Rhett. I pray that you will find love and happiness in your life.”

Rhett smiled at her. “It would be a rare thing for a man to have both.”

“Don't be so cynical, Rhett. Every man needs a good woman that will love him otherwise what happiness can he have in life?”

“Very well, Mother, I promise you I will find my happiness some day. Now, I will go have a word with Reverend Elliot and leave you to your prayers. Please tell Rosemary how sorry I am and how much I love her. I hope one day I can make it up to her.”

“I will try. Keep safe Rhett and never forget how much I love my little soldier boy.”

Rhett kissed her on her soft cheek and gazed at her, the sunlight beaming through the stained glass shone behind her and made her look ethereal. “I love you Mother. Don't forget, I will fight the devil himself to help you, all you need to do is ask. Good bye my darling.”

Rhett made his way to the church offices and had a private word with Reverend Elliot. The gentleman was agreeable to Rhett's plan and graciously accepted the first cheque of what would become Rhett's monthly donation to the St. Michael's Benevolent Fund. 

The week before Christmas, his preliminary plans in place, Rhett mounted Chief and made his way towards the docks to set sail for New York. He was not sorry to leave Charleston, it had not changed, it was still as stiff necked and tied to it's codes of conduct as it had been when he had been last there. His only sorrow was for Rosemary and his mother. 

Chief's hooves clattered on the cobblestones and the darkened warehouses edged the street as he neared the docks. A woman was staggering in the road before him -she had a thin, rolled mattress on her back and her once garish red hair was black at the roots and messily straggled round her face. Rhett drew rein as she almost fell in the gutter. 

Peering through the dim light of the gas lamp, Rhett looked at the pitiful form. 

“Josie?”

The woman looked around - “Well hello sugar – are ya looking for a little fun?”, she mumbled. Her eyes were bleary and bloodshot, her skin had a yellowish tinge, and she had a large weeping sore on her lower lip. She looked to be about five or six months pregnant.

Rhett felt a pang of sadness. “Do you remember me, Josie?” he said kindly.

She tried focusing on Rhett as she weaved on her feet. “Well course I remember you, honey. Why it was just last week you rode me fine. You are the best I ever had.” she slurred, obviously not knowing him from Adam. “ Are you going get off that horse so we can play or what?”

“Not today Josie.” Rhett said. 

Josie grabbed hold of Rhett's leg, her hands were dirty and her nails chipped and broken.“Maybe you could pay me in advance for our next time then, sweetie. I could sure use a drink.” she gave a lascivious wink as she licked her lips. He felt a mixture of revulsion and pity for the wreck that Josie had become - she hadn't been a bad sort, no worse than any other whore. He wondered what had happened to the gold necklace.

“For our next time, Josie”

Rhett tossed her a ten dollar coin and saw her scramble in the street for it. He dug in his spurs and rode away without a backward glance.

 

_Not really a barrel of laughs this story is it? But I hope you are enjoying it.  P.S. You all know how much I go in for research – the lower prostitutes of Charleston would carry a thin mattress on their backs to facilitate their business in the back alleys and street corners. How sad._


	3. Chapter 3

 

**_A little niggle from Iris prompted me to update this story. It is with many, many thanks to Alica for her unfailing kindness and encouragement that it is finally able to be posted. Thank you Princess._ **

**PART 3**

Rhett had keenly sensed the coming war. He knew how hot blooded his Southern brethren were and he also knew how adamant the North was to force them all to be one country under one constitution and with one set of laws. It was only a matter of time before hot words and cold determination would collide and become a firestorm of blood and destruction and so he methodically began his preparations.

He traveled north to New York and again he listened to the talk in the bars, gentleman's clubs and whore houses. New Yorkers were not so interested in States Rights nor Lincoln, their interest lay in money and the expansion of the West.

Abolitionists wrote stirring letters in the newspapers and gave lofty sermons in their churches which Rhett read and here too he saw the gullible being swayed by the fine rhetoric towards war.

He watched as immigrants from foreign lands streamed endlessly off the boats from Europe, carrying their past lives in battered suitcases and wrapped bundles of clothes and keepsakes, all with the belief that America was the golden land and they would do anything to be American.

Rhett traveled the crowded cities and towns of the North, their houses coated in soot from the enormous chimneys of their factories, churning out all manner of goods. The people were white faced and sickly but determined to make a better life for their children or die trying.

Ever expanding railroads easily connected a man from one state to another and Rhett visited the Pennsylvania iron foundries powered by the state's rich coal, in Massachusetts he saw the wool mills and leather good factories. Everywhere he went, Rhett saw and felt the frenetic energy to build and make more- more things - more money.

He re-connected with the men who had been his classmates at West Point. Many were in the Army still, some had been in the Indian territories, others were now important men of business. All had fond memories of their younger days and of Rhett and they were eager to help him with his plans for the future, especially if it enriched their own pockets.

Rhett's next port of call was England. Here he visited the mills in Lancaster and he arranged rental on two warehouses. If things went as Rhett expected they would, they soon would be filled with premium Southern cotton and it would stay there until it would sell for ten times the original purchase price. He opened an account with the Bank of England, his initial deposit was five hundred pounds - he had no doubt it would be a drop in the bucket before the end of things.

In Belfast, Ireland Rhett worked with shipwrights on two cutters, their design was narrow and low to the sea and swift in any waters, he specified the exact colour grey he wanted them painted and insisted no white was to be used.

Rhett moved on to Cuba and the Bahamas. He again found warehouse space by the docks and began now to inquire about crewmen for his ships. Other men, such as he, were also making their plans and setting things in motion. There was an honour among these thieves, all were out to make their millions and as a band they would become rich.

In New Orleans, Rhett felt almost home, a home for a man like himself anyway. Women were beautiful and willing, men were strong and cut throat and the whiskey always flowed. Every night was a party and every day deals could be struck. Hand shakes and promises were made and information shared. Rhett was in his element as he settled into the luxurious St. Louis Hotel with it's towering golden rotunda where auctions were held every afternoon. Greasy looking men with cruel eyes, their voices reverberating off the domed ceiling, bellowed their offerings, - stocks in dubious companies, real estate lost due to heavy betting at the crooked gaming tables, and most frequently, slaves were sold to the highest bidder.

Rhett settled into wait, lining up contacts with fellow merchants of fortune. Some, like him, were stockpiling cotton and tobacco, others sugar and silks. Some of the more optimistic were dealing in slaves.

He would walk the streets and feel the laissez faire attitude of the people which overlaid the excitement of the city. The docks by the river were clogged with steamers filled with cotton, sweating black men loaded bales up on ship decks, using their iron hooks to pull the heavy weight. Gentlemen strolled along, seeing dollar signs with each bale being loaded but would bet it all on a boxing match in a barroom. For these men believed there would always be money – tomorrow, next month, next season. They may have periodic set backs but their foundations were strong. They had land, slaves and arrogance – how could they fail?

Rhett enjoyed roaming through the streets of New Orleans, hearing the different voices speaking French and a soft patois. The smell of spices and fish of yeasty breads and sweet pastries overpowered the stench of sewage and the muddy smell from the wide river which slowly flowed through the city.

The divergent neighbourhoods were strictly adhered to – the Creoles behind their bougainvillea draped walls with secret courtyards and wrought iron verandas, the Americans lived in proud Greek Revival mansions adorned with towering pillars and broad terraces. The Irish, Germans and Cajuns all had their places in single and double shotguns.

Freeman lived separately yet roamed the city, making their living as craftsman, artisans and professionals. Mulattoes abounded and were treated with more respect than in South Carolina, Rhett noticed.

Rhett discovered another delight in his wanderings - a small house outside the Quarter, as reserved as the street on which it was situated. It was an exclusive house for gentleman only, more specifically, rich gentleman. Most wouldn't have known what business was done behind the lace curtained windows but Rhett's sharp eye had seen the small pile of money on the porch stairs - the weekly pay off to the police man that walked this street.

It was very different from the houses on Gallatin Street with their numerous cribs and worn out women that would be as likely to knife an unwary man as give him a disease.

Rhett stood outside the wrought iron gate decorated with gilded pineapples, the sign of welcome in New Orleans. He could hear a piano playing a gentle air and the soft laughter of a woman followed by a louder laugh from a man. Rhett opened the gate and walked up the stairs. His soft knock at the door was quickly answered by a little Irish maid - she curtsied to him.

“May I help you sir?”

“I would like a word with your mistress. May I come in?”

“Yes sir. If you wouldn't mind waiting here in the hallway, I will tell her. May I have your name, sir?”

"My name is Rhett Butler.”

The maid bobbed again, “Thank you, Mr. Butler. I will be right back.” The maid scurried to a room just past the inner stairway. She was back in a moment.

“Mr. Butler, my mistress will see you, please come this way.”

Mama Therese kept a clean house and she insisted on interviewing each man before allowing him to pass through the golden drapes to her parlour where the young women gathered. Mama Therese was precise in her questions.

“Bonsoir monsieur, welcome to my home.” Mama Therese said graciously as she rose from behind a delicate Empire styled desk. She was a tiny woman, standing less than five feet tall. Her black hair was tightly drawn back from her thin, pale face with it's long aristocratic nose. She wore a pale lavender gown with an old fashioned lace peignoir - she seemed like something from the Old World. Her eyes were sharp as she assessed Rhett.

“Please be seated." She indicated towards a tall backed tapestry chair before her desk."I am sure you won't mind me asking you a few questions?”

“Not at all, Madam, I am an open book.”

Mama Therese smiled, “Ah, I somehow doubt that monsieur but my questions are simple ones. How long have you been in La Nouvelle Orleans?”

“Only a short while but I expect to be here often.”

“ How did you hear of my home?”

“No one told me of it. My feet or perhaps my heart somehow led me to your door.”

Mama Therese laughed. “You are either a man who keeps secrets well or a poet. What is your name?”

“Rhett Butler of Charleston, South Carolina.”

“Do you have something, a letter perhaps in your wallet that would confirm this for me?” Mama Therese's sharp brown eyes scanned his face, she could sum up any man quickly, whether he was gentle or cruel - if he liked his woman to be soft and willing or wild and forceful, or maybe he would like a combination of the two. If this man had the means, he may be acceptable as a client of her home. Rhett pulled a letter of bill of sale from his tailor from his bill fold and passed it to the woman who scanned it intently.

“Ah, you are a customer of M. Lacroix, you have good taste.” And a rich wallet, for Francois Lacroix was not one to make clothes for the poor.

“ Pardon, monsieur, you understand I must be careful for my ladies and for you as well. One would not want anything to pass from one to another that would cause discomfort for either. If you don't mind....”

And so Rhett was forced to be inspected by Mama. She was very clinical with her examination and it was finished in a moment with only minor embarrassment to Rhett.

“Monsieur, my ladies will be begging me for your service. It is not often that I have seen such a perfect specimen of what God divined for a man or for a woman's pleasure.” She laughed. “My home is open to you, Monsieur Butler.”

“ I require gentlemen to pay in advance for their first visit, after that we can set up an account payable every week. Some of our more frequent visitors prefer to pay at the beginning of each month but all must have placed a deposit of three hundred dollars with me.” She sighed and then smiled at Rhett. “ How unpleasant it is to speak of money but it is a necessary evil. For your evening's pleasure, I will need thirty dollars.”

The price was high, very high compared to most of the houses in New Orleans. “The price is acceptable Madame, but isn't it rather unusual to pay without first viewing? It is rather like accepting an opponents winning hand without seeing his cards.”

Mama Therese frowned and then smiled at Rhett. “You are very astute, M. Butler. Shall we make a bargain? If you are not satisfied, I shall give you back your thirty dollars and add ten dollars to show my disappointment that I could not please a gentleman such as yourself.”

Rhett smiled, pulling out his bill fold again, he said, “I accept your bargain, Madame.”

After the money had changed hands and concealed in an ornate porcelain casket and then returned to the desk drawer, Mama stood up from behind her ornate desk. “ Let me introduce you to my young ladies. Do you have special preference?”

“Any type would be a delight for me, Madame, as long as they are not children.”

“In that case, I am sure we can accommodate you, Monsieur. And if you do not like any of them, I am sure I could help you.” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Rhett smiled. “You honour me greatly, Madame.”

“You may call me Mama Therese. Please follow me so I might see you are settled with a glass of champagne perhaps or would you prefer whiskey?”

Mamma Therese led Rhett down the hall and through the golden curtains.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

There were four regular 'dames de joie' with a fifth who was known as the back bedroom girl - Mama knew that some gentlemen were bored easily and so she arranged for a new girl to come to the house for a two week period, she could be thin or fat, tall or short, black or white, the only criteria was she had to be clean and well behaved. All her girls were well trained in the fine arts of pleasing any man who had the money to cross their threshold and those that did not follow her rules were soon shown the back door.

Rhett fit in well with the house. It was quiet and refined, if one could use that word to describe a house of ill repute. Rhett felt comfortable and could relax, away from the constant wildness of the Quarter. The other gentleman were primarily long time residents of New Orleans, not the transients to the city. They were polite to each other and to the women. They knew any transgression would bar them from the house permanently.

The house was well run – gentleman were encouraged to drink but not to excess. The woman were permitted only one glass of wine per client. Time was taken with each gentleman, in conversation and coquetry. Linens were changed after each rendezvous and the men were offered 'french safes' but it was not mandatory for them to be used as the women had their own methods, such as vinegar and womb veils. The ladies were always well groomed and as appropriately dressed as if they were going to fine ball. Each morning, the house was scrubbed cleaned and the windows were opened to air the rooms, fresh flowers filled the house with their scent and no dust dared mar the sheen of the polished woods. Paintings of naked nymphs and satyrs decorated the walls and thick rugs muffled footsteps.

Rhett became a regular visitor and enjoyed the company of the women. There was Sally, a blonde with large blue eyes, she was delightfully plump and sweet with lady like ways. She was a very good actress, both in and out of bed - she played the innocent but curious virgin and would open her eyes wide and say “Oh my, I don't know if I could possibly..” with any new client.

Belle was a red head with freckles on her nose and her buxom decolletage that she hated and was always trying to cover them with powder, the only cosmetic that Mama permitted as she wanted her girls to look at ladylike as possible. Belle wasn't pretty but rather she was handsome with kind eyes and the height of the people from her native backwoods of Tennessee. She had a loving heart and a quick laugh and was always very enthusiastic in bed. She quickly became Rhett's favourite.

Then there was Helene. She had long black hair and black eyes and she reminded Rhett of Rosemary – so much that he never bedded her. It wouldn't have felt right. She was shy and polite and her voice was so quiet, men would have to lean in close to hear her and would become intoxicated with her soft perfume of violets.

Finally there was Seraphina – she was almost as tall as Rhett, powerfully built and with skin of true black, her cheekbones were pronounced and her eyes were almond shaped. She acted the part of master to the men who hired her, she was very athletic and strong and could contort her body in surprising ways - she taught Rhett many new tricks.

Frequently, Rhett would end up joining the ladies for breakfast and it is how he began to know them more as women. Sally, rarely if ever, joined the others – she preferred her own company and to sleep for she was a very lazy and selfish woman.

Sometimes Mama would join them, drinking a strong demi-tasse and eating a piece of bread with honey before going back to her office to tally the night's takings and to inspect the maids cleaning. Also around the table were three children, for Mama was a rare madame who permitted her ladies to keep their children in the house, knowing that a happy woman was a much higher money maker than a mother mooning over her missing child. Belle had a young son, Joey, a chubby two year old who had his mother's auburn hair and her freckles, he would happily sit on Rhett's lap and would laugh when Rhett would jig him on his knee while singing “Oh The Grand Old Duke of York”.

Seraphina's three year old twin girls, both with cocoa coloured skin and sapphire blue eyes would sit shyly beside their mother but would giggle when Rhett would magically pull silver dollars from behind their ears and tuck them in their little hands.

Rhett learned that all the women had dreams for their future. Seraphina told him how she was going to give up the life in two more years, by then she would have enough money saved to move to Saltspring Island in Canada– her uncle had written her last year telling her about the black settlement there and how the British government was giving out land grants for people. “We are going to homestead and grow sheep.” she told him proudly.”My girls will be as free there as jay birds.”

Belle had other ideas. “I want to own my own house, it will have gold framed mirrors with those fat angel babies and red flocked wallpaper and real animal rugs. I'll have a nigra band playing all night long and the longest bar in the South. My gurls will be the prettiest and I'll have men lined up down the street trying to get served. I 'spect I'll be a millionaire in less than a year!”

Little Helene had more romantic dreams. All she wanted was to be married to a man like her father. “He will love me and be gentle with me. He will bring me flowers and read poetry and make me feel cherished. We will have a little house with a garden and he will go off to work each day and I will take care of our babies.”

Poor Helene, her parents had died from yellow fever when she was fourteen, leaving her to fend for herself – it hadn't taken long before she had been taken in by what she originally had thought was a kindly woman. Within two weeks the old slag had put her to work, servicing the sailors from the steamships. Helene had run away the morning after a fat steward had beat her, leaving her with bruises all over her body and a broken wrist. Mama Therese had discovered her weeping in a doorway of St. Louis Cathedral and had taken her home. “She was so kind to me – she gave me a room and told me I didn't ever have to go with anyone I didn't like.”

Rhett smiled, "Hold on to your dreams Miss Helene. I hope they come true."

"What are your dreams, Mr. Butler?" Helene softly asked.

"To die a very old and very, very rich man." Rhett laughed. “In the arms of a beautiful woman!”

Yes, life was good for Rhett and he felt he had the world on a string.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

__


	4. Chapter 4

**This next chapter for Mr. Jones comes to you thanks to Alica and her kindness. You, dear readers, with your eagle eyes and quick minds, will notice immediately the italicized words were written by Margaret Mitchell. I thank you for your comments and your kudos, they are very special to me.**

  
  


Time quickly passed and the dividing line of North and South steadily widened. Rhett's expectations edged closer as the men on either side became more heated, their war of words soon to become a more deadly form of war.

On December 20, his state of South Carolina threw down her gauntlet and seceded from the Union of States and six days later Major Anderson ordered the Union flag to be cut down from Fort Moultrie and raised at Fort Sumter. The angry words had now become angry actions and it would be only a matter of time before the real war would begin. Now was the time to find the cotton and the tobacco to fill his warehouses.

At the beginning of April, Rhett had just finished coming to terms with another cotton broker, Mr. Frank Kennedy. Thirty bales of his finest cotton would be delivered to Charleston next week, with a promise of one hundred next September. As they shook hands in agreement, Mr Kennedy said, “Good to have done business with you, Mr. Butler. Are you leaving Clayton County today?”

Offering one of his Cuban cigars to Mr. Kennedy and lighting one for himself, Rhett said, “No sir, I'm in no great rush. Maybe you can point me towards the best hotel in Jonesboro.”

“ If you care sir, I would be honoured if you would stay here with me.” Mr. Kennedy tentatively said, his good manners winning out over his good sense. “Though I am on my way to a neighbour's barbeque, you will of course be welcome to attend with me.”

“ Thank you, sir. I should be glad to accept your invitation.” Rhett could see how the fussy Mr. Kennedy had hoped he would refuse his offer but it was a fine day for a barbeque and he was in no hurry to leave.

They rode their horses along a red dirt road, the air scented with the apple and peach blossoms that bloomed their delicate pink, Rhett looked at the vibrant green of the new shoots from the cotton plants and the budding trees as Mr. Kennedy pointed out the other plantations. He told Rhett which had the best cotton, the best horse flesh, the best peaches and the best beef. As they passed another plantation, it's drive shadowed with tall cedars, Mr. Kennedy said “And that is Tara, it has the prettiest young ladies.”

“ Is there a special young lady that lives there, Mr. Kennedy?” Rhett said politely.

With a last glance back at the plantation, Mr. Kennedy replied, “It is the home of the lady that I hope will one day be my wife.”

“ Congratulations sir.” Rhett said, though from his tone, he could have been giving his condolences. “When is the wedding?”

Mr. Kennedy stroked his thin ginger beard, “Well sir, I haven't asked her yet. These things take time, as I am sure you know.”

Mr. Kennedy immediately realized his blunder, knowing the story of Rhett's old indiscretion. He once again began pulling at his whiskers.

Rhett smoothly said, “I would be honoured to meet your intended, Mr. Kennedy.”

Mr. Kennedy was not sure if it would be in Suellen's best interest to meet such a man as Mr. Rhett Butler, nor would it be for any lady of his acquaintance. But what could he do, as Mr. Butler was his guest?

“  We are almost there, Twelve Oaks is just across the river, sir.” Mr. Kennedy said, avoiding Rhett's proposal.

Turning into the broad curving drive, Rhett saw the large home standing at the top of the hill. It's graceful lines and towering pillars was more suited to the homes of Virginia than this back water of Georgia.

Carriages lined the drive and men dressed in fawn slacks, high riding boots and broadcloth jackets and their ladies in multi-hued gowns of pastels disembarked and made their way into the house or to the green lawns. They were happy and laughing, smiling and bowing to one another. It was a perfect day for a barbeque with spring sun warming the air and a slight breeze fluttering the ladies ribbons.

Rhett smelled the wood smoke from the fire pits and the scent of roasting pork. It had been a long time since he had been to a barbeque, not since he was still living under his father's roof.

Young, black boys ran forward and held the horse's bridles as Rhett and Mr. Kennedy dismounted and made their way up the stairs to the wide veranda and their host.

“ Mr. Kennedy, welcome sir.” A tall, silver haired gentleman greeted them. He had a young woman standing beside him, jigging about on her feet and giggling inanely. She had rabbity eyes with colourless lashes and foolish mouth that rapidly rose and fell with a toothy smile.

“  Thank you sir, it is a pleasure to be here. Mr. Wilkes, please let me introduce you to Mr. Rhett Butler. We have been doing business this morning and I asked him to join me. I hope you don't mind.”

“ Not at all sir.” Turning to Rhett, Mr. Wilkes politely said, “ Welcome to Twelve Oaks, Mr. Butler. This is my youngest daughter, Honey." The girl giggled again and curtsied to Rhett. She pursed her lips and tittered. Rhett wondered if she was simple minded.

"Miss Wilkes, Mr. Wilkes." Rhett bowed to them.“Thank you for hospitality, sir. You have a beautiful home.”

“ Your speech makes me think you are not from these parts, sir.”

“ No, I come from Charleston originally though I have traveled for the last few years.”

Miss Wilkes had already lost interest in Rhett and was waving frantically at another carriage pulling up.

Mr. Wilkes pleasantly said, “I always like to hear of others travels, Mr. Butler. I never have had the opportunity. My son was able to tour Europe though, please let me introduce you to him. Ashley..”

A golden haired young man, his features delicate and soft like something from a dream world, stepped forward away from his companions. “ Ashley, I want to introduce you to Mr. Butler - he has traveled the world a bit, such as you.”

Rhett formally bowed to the man and shook his hand.

“ How do you do, Mr. Butler. Please let me introduce you to my cousins from Atlanta, Miss Hamilton and Mr. Charles Hamilton.” the young Mr. Wilkes said, his speech was soft and smooth spoken.

Rhett bowed to the lady. She was a pale shadow of the type of women he usually preferred but her gentle brown eyes startled him with her inner kindness. He couldn't remember meeting a lady such as her in a very long time.

“ Mr. Butler.” the small young woman said gently as she curtsied to him. “My brother and I have been trying to convince Ashley that the author, Mr. Charles Dickens, was very smart to serialize his stories in the popular magazines of England but Ashley insists that a story is best read in a book.”

“ I must agree with all three of you, Miss Hamilton. I prefer to read my stories in a book but if a well written story can only be enjoyed by the masses via a magazine, then I am all for it.”

“ Precisely sir.” Mr. Hamilton stammered. “You see Ashley, you are truly out numbered now. Thank you Mr. Butler.”

Mr. Wilkes smiled at his cousins. “So be it then. Mr. Butler, do you enjoy reading?”

“ I do sir, when I get the time.”

“  'Time be swift towards our death.' ”

“ Oh Melly, you are now being morbid.” Mr. Hamilton said.

Mr. John Wilkes joined the group. “I hope my son is entertaining you, Mr. Butler.”

“ Yes sir, we have just been discussing the books of Mr. Dickens.”

“ If you enjoy books sir, I hope you will have a minute to see my library. I am rather proud of it but I am always interested in others opinions. Tom,” Mr. Wilkes said, “A julep for Mr. Butler.”

A tall thin black man rushed forward, offering a silver cup to Rhett.

Another carriage crowded with three young women, their billowing skirts spilling up the sides of the buggy and a florid faced man with thick white hair on a large white stallion trotting beside them pulled up to the porch. The man's blue eyes sparkled like those of a young boy as he called out “John Wilkes, 'tis a fine day for a barbeque!”

“ Excuse me sir, I must welcome my neighbour.” Mr. Wilkes bowed and turned to welcome his guests.

Rhett glanced over and saw Mr. Kennedy begin to beam at one of the young belles in the carriage. “Ah, so this must be his intended.” Rhett scanned the three girls, trying to guess who was to be the future Mrs. Kennedy. A soft looking brown haired little lady, no more than thirteen years old stepped out, her fawn dress with cream piping came to just below her knees, she was followed by a strawberry blonde with a long nose and small blue eyes, her dress was pink and frothing with lace, and then a black haired beauty stepped down. Her emerald eyes sparked from under her wide brimmed hat tied under a sharp chin by a wide green velvet ribbon. Her gown was much too low for so early in the day but it was no doubt intentional. Rhett knew which he would choose if forced.

Mr. Kennedy had moved towards the carriage, ready to offer his arm to the blonde when he seemed to be waylaid by the flirtatious, dimpled smile of the dark haired girl.

“ Why thank you Mr. Kennedy. My, your new whiskers are becoming - I always love a gentleman with a beard.”

Kennedy began to blush and stammered, “Thank you, Miss Scarlett, thank you.” Rhett grinned as the now sour faced blonde clasped Mr. Kennedy's arm and led him away.

Mr. Hamilton had also begun to blush like a schoolboy as he gazed with calf eyes at the belle who was now curtsying to Mr. John Wilkes. Rhett glanced around to see if this young charmer had the same effect on Mr. Ashley Wilkes but he had walked away, deep in conversation with Miss Hamilton.

Rhett observed the young woman as she bowed and simpered to every man she spied. She seemed to sparkle with vivaciousness and he followed her into the hallway, scrutinizing her as she was quickly surrounded by young bucks swarming her like bees to honey. She was no beauty though she obviously believed she was and she had convinced all the young bucks around her of the same thing. She had what were known as bedroom eyes and she used them to her advantage, peeking out from lowered lashes to startle a man with a rush of desire. Her bust was full for someone so young and her waist was tiny. Rhett wondered if she had inherited the bandy legs of her father along with his jaw. Her skin was the prized white of the southern woman and her black hair was smoothed into a tidy net. It was the only thing about her that seemed the least bit ladylike.

As she glanced around - looking for someone - her green eyes met his and he smiled at her. She seemed suddenly shy and her hand went to her breast as though she realized her dress was too low for an afternoon barbeque. Rhett grinned, enjoying her fluster. His watch was interrupted when a man called out.

" _ Rhett! Rhett Butler! Come here! I want you to meet the most hardhearted girl in Georgia." _

Rhett looked around - he didn't think any of this company knew him. He scanned the throng, trying to pick out a familiar face. A tall man dressed in gray with a sharply cut goatee, his eyes shadowed, bowed to him. Rhett couldn't place him, (for he hadn't seen him for a number of years and then only briefly). The man was standing alone, there was no woman near him.

As Rhett stood looking, the man smiled and bowed again and then was lost from sight as a large crowd of guests entered the hallway.

The name finally came to Rhett - "Mr. Jones." remembered Rhett, the man from the steamship. Rhett thought he would like to speak to the man again, to tell him how his luck had changed and possibly have a game of cards with him.

Rhett moved back to the stairway and watched the young woman walk up the stairs. He smiled as she swung her hips, causing her full skirts to sway back and forth in a tantalizing way. She knew all the tricks of a coquette. She was stopped by Mr. Charles Hamilton, whose face was pink with blushing. Rhett moved closer so that he might listen.

Mr. Hamilton was stammering and stuttering and the belle turned her full attention to him. She smiled and flirted and made the poor fool promise to eat barbeque with her. After a final tap with her fan, she turned and saw Rhett standing near. A small scowl marred her face and she quickly fled up the stairs.

She was too young for Rhett but possibly if she was a few years older he would have arranged a quiet walk in the moonlight with her. Still he enjoyed watching her.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Mr. Wilkes introduced Rhett to his other daughter, a plain young woman named India. She had pale eyes like her sister and her mouth pinched in disapproval to everything and everyone. She politely welcomed him to Twelve Oaks and then was gone. At least she didn't giggle.

"My daughter has had to take over the running of my home. My wife died four years ago and so the burden has been passed to her. " Mr. Wilkes said as he guided Rhett outside. "I don't know how we would get along otherwise."

"Man builds the house but Woman builds the home." Rhett said.

"Very true. Are you hungry sir? I can promise you a fine meal." Mr. Wilkes said as he led Rhett towards the tables outside.

Mr. Wilkes was true to his word, the meal was as fine a one that Rhett had had in a long while.

Mr. Wilkes seemed to enjoy Rhett's company and the men discussed travel and books. Of course politics were touched on but only briefly as neither had the taste for it on such a beautiful day.

Rhett gaze would, from time to time, go to the young belle, Scarlett. From his vantage point under the shade of an old oak, he watched the young bucks gathered around her, each vying for her attention, jockeying for a spot closer to her as she laughed and flirted with them all. Even Mr. Kennedy was dancing attendance on her, much to her sister's annoyance.

But Rhett also saw her eyes flit constantly past her beaux and he followed the line of her gaze - it led to Ashley Wilkes and his cousin Melanie Hamilton, sitting apart from the crowd, lost in themselves, the young gentleman familiarly playing with Miss Hamilton's sash as she glowed with a shy woman's beauty when near the man she loved.

Well, well, so Miss O'Hara has a crush on Mr. Wilkes. Yet his host had mentioned his son and Miss Hamilton were to announce their engagement this evening. No wonder her dimples faded each time she looked over at the couple. She had acted so daring in luring the attention of all the young men and securing the displeasure of the other young ladies, all in the hope of catching Mr. Ashley's eye. Rhett laughed out loud, She must have heard his laugh as her green eyes flashed at him and a scowl briefly soured her face.

The dessert plates had been set aside and the loud buzz of conversation seemed to have faded to quiet murmurs. The ladies fans were slowing and a few of the elderly guests were beginning to snore. The servants were languidly clearing the tables and gathering plates and glasses.

The O'Hara man came over to Mr. Wilkes, who introduced him to Rhett. They each bowed and said "How do you do?" and then Mr. O'Hara began badgering Mr. Wilkes.

"Now John, you have heard the news from Charleston. The Yankees have turned tail and run, like the cowards they be. General Beauregard, though he be a Frenchie, showed his mettle and made them feel the fire of our guns.” The little man was dancing on his feet, his face red with excitement and too many cups of whiskey, Rhett surmised.

Mr. Wilkes, softly warned. "Now is not the time to discuss this, Gerald. It will spoil the afternoon for the ladies."

"Now is the time - tis past time. We need to show those jumped up johnnys we mean business and chase the Northern heathens out of our Southland. We need to make them feel the steel of our sabers and the powder of our guns!" Mr. O'Hara said with vigor.

“ I hope that it won't come to that.” Mr. Wilkes said "For myself, I will pray for a peaceful settlement. "

_ "God's nightgown, man! Pray for a peaceable settlement with the Yankees after we've fired on the rascals at Fort Sumter? Peaceable? The South should show by arms that she cannot be insulted and that she is not leaving the Union by the Union's kindness but by her own strength!" _

His shout clearly rang out in the soft air, igniting the guests from their drowsiness and the men rushed in to join the call for war.

_ "Of course we'll fight--" "Yankee thieves--" "We could lick them in a month--" "Why, one Southerner can lick twenty Yankees--" "Teach them a lesson they won't soon forget--" "Peaceably? They won't let us go in peace--" "No, look how Mr. Lincoln insulted our Commissioners!" "Yes, kept them hanging around for weeks-- swearing he'd have Sumter evacuated!" "They want war; we'll make them sick of war--" _

Rhett watched as the O'Hara man called out "Secession! Secession!" over and over again. His face was red and his blue eyes alight with the thought of war. All the men seemed to relish the thought - the fools.

But not all the men were crowding round. Rhett saw Ashley Wilkes speaking with Miss Hamilton, oblivious to the loud shouting and Mr. Hamilton was still beside Scarlett, furiously fanning her face though she looked no more likely to faint than to stand up and do a cartwheel. He smiled at the thought.

Someone called out to Ashley, asking for his opinion. The young Mr. Wilkes rose up from beside Miss Hamilton and almost reluctantly joined the men.

_ "Why, gentlemen, if Georgia fights, I'll go with her. Why else would I have joined the Troop?"  _ he said  _ "But, like Father, I hope the Yankees will let us go in peace and that there will be no fighting--" _

A few of the bucks tried to disagree but he held up his hand and continued.

_ "Yes, yes, I know we've been insulted and lied to--but if we'd been in the Yankees' shoes and they were trying to leave the Union, how would we have acted? Pretty much the same. We wouldn't have liked it." _

Spoken like a true diplomat, Rhett thought. But it wasn't what the crowd wanted to hear and the shouting began again.

An elderly man, woken from his nap by the clamor of voices, rose up.  _ "War, is it?" he cried,  _ he took up his cane pushed himself out of his chair." _ I'll tell 'um about war. I've been there." _ As he stumped his way over to the throng of men.

_ "You fire-eating young bucks, listen to me. You don't want to fight. I fought and I know. Went out in the Seminole War and was a big enough fool to go to the Mexican War, too. You all don't know what war is. You think it's riding a pretty horse and having the girls throw flowers at you and coming home a hero. Well, it ain't. No, sir! It's going hungry, and getting the measles and pneumonia from sleeping in the wet. And if it ain't measles and pneumonia, it's your bowels. Yes sir, what war does to a man's bowels--dysentery and things like that--" _

Truer words were never spoken, Rhett agreed, well remembering the fighting in Mexico.

The old man was shushed and hastily led away by a child, still waving his cane and saying loudly, "And what about the lice that will drive a man mad with itching. How would you like that, eh? You pampered babies, you know nothing about war, the smell of blood in the hot sun, watching your friends die from a bullet to the gut, the screams of the horses, oh the poor beasts...”

"Yes, Grandfather but Mama wants you to come now," the young girl said as she pulled on the man's coat, coaxing him back to her mother. "Let's go back to the shade where it's cool, Grandfather."

Rhett sneered. These fools prefer their dreams of glory than hearing the truth. They were like little boys, playing with their tin soldiers. They have no concept of the world or of war.

A tall red headed man, one of the bucks that had buzzed around Scarlett, spoke as if by rote.  _ "Why, we could lick them in a month! Gentlemen always fight better than rabble. A month--why, one battle--" _

One battle, one month, one week - Rhett had heard the same rhetoric from the men in Louisiana, Mississippi, South Carolina and Alabama. It was written in the editorials of newspapers and shouted in the bars and gambling dens. Everywhere men gathered, they all said the same thing and Rhett was sick of it.

_ "Gentlemen, may I say a word?" _ Rhett said with a note of contempt. He stayed leaning against the shade tree and didn't trouble to take his hands from his pockets.

The men turned to him, surprised that he spoke. A bunch of country bumpkins who knew nothing.

_ "Has any one of you gentlemen ever thought that there's not a cannon factory south of the Mason-Dixon Line? Or how few iron foundries there are in the South? Or woolen mills or cotton factories or tanneries? Have you thought that we would not have a single warship and that the Yankee fleet could bottle up our harbors in a week, so that we could not sell our cotton abroad?But--of course--you gentlemen have thought of these things." _

He had their attention now.

_ "The trouble with most of us Southerners, is that we either don't travel enough or we don't profit enough by our travels. Now, of course, all you gentlemen are well traveled. But what have you seen? Europe and New York and Philadelphia and, of course, the ladies have been to Saratoga" _

He turned towards the ladies who seemed agog at him and bowed slightly. He then turned his black eyes back to the men. _ "You've seen the hotels and the museums and the balls and the gambling houses.” _

And no doubt some of the more unsavory places that you don't mention to the ladies, Rhett thought.

_ "And you've come home believing that there's no place like the South. As for me, I was Charleston born, but I have spent the last few years in the North." _

He grinned, knowing full well that most here knew why he no longer made his home in Charleston.  _ "I have seen many things that you all have not seen. The thousands of immigrants who'd be glad to fight for the Yankees for food and a few dollars, the factories, the foundries, the shipyards, the iron and coal mines--all the things we haven't got. Why, all we have is cotton and slaves and arrogance. They'd lick us in a month." _

As a final insult, Rhett pulled out his handkerchief and brushed away a bit of pollen from his jacket as if brushing away the simpletons around him.

He felt the anger around him grow. Faces grew red and eyes glowered at him. Mr. Wilkes quickly stood beside Rhett as a silent warning to the men, 'This is a guest in my home and you will do him no harm, no matter how rude he seems.'

The red head moved towards Rhett, closely followed by his twin.

_ "Sir, what do you mean?" _

Rhett looked at him, measuring him up. The boy was drunk and spoiling for a fight.

Rhett answered with a tinge of mockery " _I mean what Napoleon--perhaps you've heard of him?--remarked once, 'God is on the side of the strongest battalion!'"_

Rhett turned to his host and with unfeigned courtesy said,  _ "You promised to show me your library, sir. Would it be too great a favor to ask to see it now? I fear I must go back to Jonesboro early this afternoon where a bit of business calls me." _

"Of course. Please, this way." Mr Wilkes and Rhett moved away from the angry crowd, past the tables and towards the stately house.

"My apologies sir. My temper got the better of my manners."

"Please don't concern yourself, Mr. Butler. No blood was spilled - though I admit I was concerned that Mr. McRae would start swinging his cane at Gerald O'Hara. They are both good gentleman - I don't think they are Ajax and Hector but I feared broken hips more than carnage on my lawn."

Rhett threw back his head and laughed as they climbed the marble stairs onto the broad veranda and moved into the coolness of the house.

Mr. Wilkes was a much different man than his neighbours. He had an air of peacefulness about him - a quiet so unlike the hot heads outside, still buzzing with anger over Rhett's words.

"Have you always lived in Clayton County?" Rhett asked.

"Since I was a young boy. My father carved out Twelve Oaks from the wilderness and built this house. He moved us here from Virginia when I was about ten."

"It is a beautiful house." Rhett said as they walked down the wide planked knotted pine floors that glowed with years of rubbing, the broad hallway could easily have permitted a troop of men to walk shoulder to shoulder and it rose up to towering ceilings, expertly plastered with rosettes and scrolls. Everything of the house whispered grace and refinement.

"Yes, I think so too. I have always been very happy here." Mr. Wilkes said. "You mentioned Napoleon just now. Have you studied him?"

"I have a passing knowledge."

Mr. Wilkes opened a door. "You may be interested in a book I got last year. It was written by an admirer of Napoleon, Le Comte De Las Cases, who joined him in his exile on St. Helena. I took it with a large dose of salt, as he was obviously in awe of The Little Corporal but it did give some deeper insight."

Rhett followed Mr. Wilkes in to the room and paused. The room was dim with the wooden shades lowered to prevent the sun from damaging the leather bindings of the hundreds of books lining the high bookshelves. This room was obviously the heart of the house. Comfortable chairs, large for the men and smaller for the ladies, with small tables near to hold one's glass or cup,were scattered about. A long settee stretched before the enormous fireplace. It was a room to while away hours with quiet reading and thought.

Rhett thought "If I ever have a house, I will have room like this. I will build my house around such a room."

Mr. Wilkes had moved to one of the bookshelves and chose a small volume. "Here it is! Please take it as my gift."

"You are very generous sir."

Mr. Wilkes smiled. "If anything you are doing me a favour by taking it. It is not a book that I am likely to read again and by giving it to you, it allows me to buy another book to fill it's spot."

"Thank you."

"Your welcome. Please excuse me now, Mr. Butler I need to see to my other guests. Is there anything I can offer you? There is brandy there on the sideboard or I could have Tom bring you another julep."

"Thank you sir, I want for nothing." Rhett answered. "If you could tell Mr. Kennedy where I am, I would be grateful."

"Of course. I shall see you before you go." And Mr. Wilkes left.

Rhett stood still, feeling the calming influence of the room, the books, the quiet, the feeling of a home of grace and refinement. This house was a place of peace, where no wilder emotions than those read from a writers words spoiled the quiet. He imagined evenings here with the family grouped together, each reading a book or writing a letter to a loved one, possibly a civilized discussion on which author wrote the best argument of love or of war. It was very different from his own home. Rhett wondered if he would prefer this to a house of passion and emotion. It was damped down, muted.

He sat on the sofa and opened the book and began to read. “It was vain that the new government loudly proclaimed the union of all parties....."

The words of Le Comte soon began to blur and Rhett stretched his long legs out and gave himself up to a short nap.

_ "Yes--a secret. I love you." _

Rhett woke from his light sleep, confused momentarily as to where he was, - ah yes the barbeque with the fetching young belle, Scarlett.

A secret... and young woman's secret, he smiled. He stayed quiet so as not to disturb the young lovers.

_ "Isn't it enough that you've collected every other man's heart here today?" A man spoke, his voice was kind and caressing voice. "Do you want to make it unanimous? Well, you've always had my heart, you know. You cut your teeth on it." _

  
  


Well played young man, Rhett smirked. Always let a woman down easily with kind words, they are less likely to make a scene then.

_ "Ashley--Ashley--tell me--you must--oh, don't tease me now!  Have I your heart?  Oh, my dear, I lo--" _

So it is the young Mr. Wilkes and would it be Miss Scarlett O'Hara professing her love to a man who is for all intents and purposes already engaged to Miss Hamilton? Rhett smirked.

_"You must not say these things, Scarlett!  You mustn't.  You don't mean them.  You'll hate yourself for saying them, and you'll hate me for hearing them!"_  
Mr. Wilkes was playing the gentleman, Rhett thought.  It was not as he would have done but then he wasn't a gentleman.    
 _"I couldn't ever hate you.  I tell you I love you and I know you must care about me because-- Ashley, do you care—you do, don't you?"_  
He was stuck now, how would the charming Ashley get out of this one Rhett wondered, fully enjoying the dramatics he was overhearing.  
  
" _Yes, I care."_  
Rhett thought he sounded like a man facing the guillotine saying his final words.  
 _"Scarlett, can't we go away and forget that we have ever said these things?"_  
Wishful thinking, Mr. Wilkes – once a woman hears any words such as love – like - care - they grasp hold of it like a dog with a bone and are just as unlikely to give it up.  They will hold onto those words until their dying day and bring it up as often as possible to remind a man.  
Scarlett spoke again but more quietly and Rhett had to listen carefully to hear her words.  
  
 _"...   Don't you want to--to marry me?"_  
  
_"I'm going to marry Melanie."_ Mr. Wilkes replied without, Rhett noticed, much vigor.  
Rhett  heard the rustling of clothing and soft placating words from Mr. Wilkes - “Scarlett are you faint, oh my dear child – I'm sorry, should I get you some water?  There there my dear.  You poor girl. I didn't mean to startle you.  I thought you knew, I am a coward not to have told you but I assumed you knew.” He talked like a father to a weeping child not like a young man to a beautiful young woman.  Rhett could not imagine a belle like this Scarlett would appreciate his delicacy.  
“ _Father is to announce the engagement tonight.  We are to be married soon.  I should have told you, but I thought you knew.  I thought everyone knew--had known for years.  I never dreamed that you--  You've so many beaux.  I thought Stuart--”_  
Well done Mr. Wilkes, remind her of her other beaux, that may distract her.  
 _"Do you love her?”_ Sadly for Mr. Wilkes, she wasn't to be diverted.  
 _"She is like me, part of my blood, and we understand each other. Scarlett!  Scarlett!  Can't I make you see that a marriage can't go on in any sort of peace unless the two people are alike?”_ He didn't mention anything about loving her, Rhett observed.  What would Miss Hamilton feel if she was to hear her intended's words?  
“ _But you said you cared."_  
 _"I shouldn't have said it."_ But you did Mr. Wilkes and she isn't likely to forget it.  
  
 _"Well, having been cad enough to say it--"_  
  
Oh ho, now this was a bit out of the ordinary.  Most young ladies would – well most young ladies wouldn't throw themselves at a man quite like this Scarlett and if they had been so common, they would surely have remembered their mother's teachings and curtsied before fleeing the room to possibly weep in their pillows.  But this one.....  
  
" _I was a cad to say it, as I'm going to marry Melanie.  I did you a wrong and Melanie a greater one.  I should not have said it, for I knew you wouldn't understand.  How could I help caring for you-- you who have all the passion for life that I have not?  You who can love and hate with a violence impossible to me?  Why you are as elemental as fire and wind and wild things and I--"_  
  
Rhett cast his mind through the few, very few, melodramatic plays he had seen - with actors emoting about the stage causing the lower class women to swoon, - sure that Mr. Wilkes speech must have come from one of those. Rhett almost laughed out loud.  
  
 _"Why don't you say it, you coward!  You're afraid to marry me! You'd rather live with that stupid little fool who can't open her mouth except to say 'Yes' or 'No' and raise a passel of mealy-mouthed brats just like her!  Why--"_  
She was a spitfire, so unlike the usual ladies Rhett had encountered. Rhett admired her all the more.  
  
 _"You must not say these things about Melanie!"_  
  
 _"'I mustn't' be damned to you! Who are you to tell me I mustn't? You coward, you cad, you--  You made me believe you were going to marry me--"_  
  
“ _Be fair.  "Did I ever--”_ Not in so many words, but you never told her you loved your intended either. -Rhett was enjoying himself immensely.  
  
 _"I shall hate you till I die, you cad--you lowdown—lowdown--”_ Rhett bit his lips to prevent from laughing out loud.  He could think of a number of words to follow lowdown - fool  was on the top of his list. Here was as 'wild' a woman as one could hope to find, throwing herself at you and you are passing up the chance?  
 _"Scarlett—please—"_  
A loud slap echoed against the walls.  Rhett could feel the sting himself. The room became very quiet until Rhett heard the soft click of the door opening and closing.    
“Oh!” Scarlett gasped.  
Rhett stayed still.  Should he make his presence known and possibly commiserate with the young girl, give her a shoulder to cry on and arms to hold her? It would be like plucking a ripe peach.  
Something flew past him and pottery shattered against the marble fireplace.  
 _"This is too much."_ Rhett rose up from the sofa, " _It is bad enough to have an afternoon nap disturbed by such a passage as I've been forced to hear, but why should my life be endangered?"_  
He smirked at the startled face of the young woman and bowed low to her. If she had seen a ghost before her, he would bet she wouldn't have been more surprised.  
 _"Sir, you should have made known your presence." s_ he said,  He would give her this, she had a backbone.  
 _"Indeed?"_ Rhett replied. _"But you were the intruder.  I was forced to wait for Mr. Kennedy, and feeling that I was perhaps persona non grata in the back yard, I was thoughtful enough to remove my unwelcome presence here where I thought I would be undisturbed.  But, alas!"_  
Her eyes sparked  with anger which impressed Rhett all the more. “What a woman.”  he thought.  
 _"Eavesdroppers--"_.  
  
 _"Eavesdroppers often hear highly entertaining and instructive things.”_ he interrupted her before she could bring out the old saw her Mammy no doubt taught her.  “ _From a long experience in eavesdropping, I--_ "  
  
 _"Sir, you are no gentleman!"_ As if this was an insult.  And what did the gentleman Mr. Wilkes give her, his honour?  
  
 _"An apt observation, and, you, Miss, are no lady."_ He said it not out of spite but more to see her reaction. 

_ "No one can remain a lady after saying and doing what I have just overheard. However, ladies have seldom held any charms for me. I know what they are thinking, but they never have the courage or lack of breeding to say what they think. And that, in time, becomes a bore. But you, my dear Miss O'Hara, are a girl of rare spirit, very admirable spirit, and I take off my hat to you. I fail to understand what charms the elegant Mr. Wilkes can hold for a girl of your tempestuous nature. He should thank God on bended knee for a girl with your--how did he put it?--'passion for living,' but being a poor-spirited wretch--"  _ Rhett spoke honestly, she had a true spirit, like a wild horse to be mastered and brought to rein.

_ "You aren't fit to wipe his boots!" _ she roared at him, like the 'Little General' – Rhett half expected her to stamp her dainty foot.   
  
_ "And you were going to hate him all your life!" _ Rhett scoffed and sat back down on the sofa.  He began to laugh.   
She opened her mouth and then closed it again, her cheeks burned red and then she bridled her temper. With a toss of her head, she remembered her childhood teachings and swept her skirts to the door.

The door banged shut with a loud noise. Rhett laughed again. No, she wasn't a lady but she was something. Something like him, ready to say to hell with the social dictates.

Rhett stood and roved the room, he smiled at the pieces of pottery scattered over the hearth, she had a tempestuousness that attracted him, more than any other woman before.  She was a wildcat and he wanted her.  
Tonight, at the ball, he would steal her away from all her young beaux and she would easily fall into his arms, if not for him but to show the young Mr. Wilkes she didn't care.  And she wouldn't care for the sop once she had a taste of him. Rhett smiled again.    
His ears pricked up,  a thudding sound as a horse galloped over the manicured lawn. Rhett moved to the tall windows and he looked through the wooden slats -  young men ran over to the rider who was shouting out and then a loud call rang out.    
“Yee-aay-ee!”  
More men rushed up and then scattered towards the barn, calling out for their grooms.  
Rhett stood at the window, watching as the guests rose up like ants from an ant hill and swarmed towards the pillared house.  
The library door flung open and Mr. Kennedy called to him.  “Mr. Butler, grand news, we are at war! That ape Lincoln has called for volunteers and we are to prepare for our release from his yoke.”  
“Ah.” Rhett quietly said as he ran through his previous plans.  
“I beg you to excuse me sir, but  I must make my way to Jonesboro. You are of course welcome to stay at my home for as long as you desire but I apologize I will not be able to attend you.”  
“Of course, Mr. Kennedy.  We have signed our agreement and I will write you the instructions for the delivery of your cotton.  Thank you for your hospitality sir.  I will be leaving myself as I imagine the evening’s entertainments are canceled.”  
Mr. Kennedy looked confused, “The ball you mean.  Why I'm sure it will be canceled, the men will be joining their troops.”  
“The War has begun.” He reiterated.  
“Pity war must come before love -  but there is more money in it and hence more satisfaction.”  
Mr. Kennedy said “Yes, the South will get its satisfaction against the Yankees.  Good day, sir.” and bowed to Rhett before rushing out the door.  
Rhett looked out the window, watching the men gallop away, swinging their hats and yelling like banshees. The ladies waved their handkerchiefs, flushed with excitement  and holding each other round their waists.

“ Fools rushing towards their death.” Rhett thought as he returned to the sofa and his book. “ **Men will fight long and hard for a bit of coloured ribbon ...** ” Or for a lady’s pleasure.


End file.
